Page 145 of Fixation
“I never said you could take me there. There’s—” My gaze darts frantically around the room. “There’s no lube here. I’m not ready. I don’t—you wouldn’t.”
It’s so depraved. And what’s worse is not the missing lube. That isn’t what makes my stomach twist and flutter.
It’s the promise of pain. The danger of being completely at this man’s mercy.
“I said I won’t harm you.” His voice is as cold and impersonal as the first time I was here. “I won’t do that to my favorite patient. I do have lube here.”
Anderson pulls out a drawer. He places the bottle on the cart next to a new, empty syringe, as if this is just another day at the hospital.
“No more questions from now on.” Fisting his thick cock through his sweats, he adjusts himself. I ache to run my tongue along his length. Fearing him is such a turn-on. “No more doubts. You were the one who came to me. Let me help you.”
I’m flushed. It extends beyond my cheeks and neck this time. Heat floods my skin as I watch Anderson release my ankle from the restraint.
He’s being considerate. Careful. I feel like a delicate bracelet in his hands.
The Velcro screeches, the sound coming from my wrists. It’s pulling me out of my musings.
He’s on top of me. Looking after me.
My strangled breaths have Anderson’s eyes flaring. I pant for him. Long for him.
“This is the best course of treatment.” His strong legs keep him upright while he’s finishing up.
My heart beats loud and fast when Anderson leans in. His arms cage my face. Locking me between them.
His scent and stare are so hot that my brain short-circuits.
“Be a good fucking patient.” I feel the weight of his cock on my thigh. His lips are soft as they brush mine. “Don’t resist me.”
Everywhere our bodies touch is another thread tying me to him.
Our connection is explosive. It brings me to life.
It brings me to my metaphorical knees for him.
I must be losing my mind.
I am.
A laugh bubbles out of me. Anderson quirks an eyebrow.
His eyes are piercing. Determined. Curious. “You’re scared.”
“You’re going to hurt me,” I snap. “You’re going to drug me. How the hell am I supposed to feel?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to drug you.” His smirk is wicked. He sees through me, how turned on I am. “That isn’t how I’ll be using the syringe today.”
No, it isn’t. When Anderson rises to grab the syringe, he doesn’t pinch me with it. Instead, he snaps it in half and puts it back in its place.
Gasping, I’m flipped onto my stomach, my wounded ankle in his grip the entire time. In his possession.
I’m not the least bit surprised that it doesn’t hurt. He knows what he’s doing. He knows me.
He’s the one I came here for.
“What do we have here?” Anderson’s thumb caresses my ankle. With his free hand, he shoves two fingers into my pussy. “Ah, a filthy patient. So wet.”
I’m so embarrassed that I hide my face in the pillow that still smells of me.
